


Fall of Fingolfin, The

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 17:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3862937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poem I made about the fall of Fingolfin. Ever since I read the Silmarillion, this part has enchanted me with Fingolfin's fearlessness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall of Fingolfin, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Fingolfin, wise, fearless, fair,  
the son of Indis Golden-hair,  
King of the Noldor, rode to war  
'gainst the Enemy, dark Melkor.  
His hosts he clad in silver bright  
and blue like blue sky at twilight.  
Their glit'ring spears and shining swords  
they bore, o'er once green woodland swards  
that now lay bare and burnt and black.  
Through the Anfauglith, Melkor's wrack  
they rode in speed, and e'er foremost  
went Fingolfin, lord of the host.

As surging wave in stormy sea  
they the hosts of the enemy  
swept in a furious onslaught  
and the captains of Morgoth fought.  
But ever more the _glamhoth_ came,  
and Balrogs wielding whips of flame.  
Then Fingolfin in his despair  
leapt on his great horse, strong and fair.  
He took up Ringil, his great sword,  
and his blue shield. And through the horde  
of enemies alone he rode,  
e'en to Melkor's dark abode.

A light undying in his eyes  
there shone as starlight in the skies,  
and things of darkness fell away  
before him in that glorious day.  
He smote upon the brazen gate,  
and in a voice both fell and great,  
called to the dark king inside  
the gloomy halls; and far and wide  
His valiant challenge could be heard.  
In the halls the Enemy stirred.  
As up he came. Fingolfin proud  
stood before the iron gate,  
weapon drawn, his foe to await.

The gates sprang open; on he came,  
evil's lord; shadow was his hame  
and bitter lightning was his crown.  
He raised his hammer black; and down  
On Fingolfin with thund'rous noise  
it came; Fingolfin changed his poise;  
as he leapt aside, a stroke did give  
fierce and true. His sword did cleave  
that dark flesh; an awful cry  
gave Melkor, echoing in the sky.  
All things of evil: his dark hosts  
Trembled and cowered; and the ghosts  
of things long dead, they wheeled and cried  
above the towers; far and wide  
the Elven-hosts in triumph sang.  
Six more times then Ringil rang.  
Six more times, as harpers tell,  
Fingolfin struck. But fierce and fell  
was Melkor. Ere built was world,  
ere the Sea sang, ere Spring unfurled,  
he walked alone in the abyss.  
Fire and Darkness, they both were his.  
He swung his hammer now aloft  
and down. Fingolfin swiftly brought  
his shield, the blow to deflect.  
Melkor, quickly, without reflect  
on Fingolfin his foot did place  
huge and heavy. Now his mace  
he brought on him. With dying stroke,  
Fingolfin Varda did evoke,  
and hewed the foot with broken sword.  
Thus ended the great Elven-lord.

From the cold North the wind now blew  
To Thangorodrim the Eagles flew.  
Birds of Manwë, they abode  
By Gondolin, where the light of old  
was still preserved. Now down they swept  
Through the mountain ways and cleft.  
They lifted up the broken form  
of Fingolfin; amid the storm  
they bore him e'en to Gondolin.  
In a high mound was Fingolfin  
bestowed, and as elven harpers sing  
there never will come an evil thing.


End file.
